Angels in the Shadows
by Shadowblade217
Summary: When people start vanishing without a trace in Beacon Hills, California, Scott McCall and his friends begin searching for the people responsible. But when a mysterious man called the Doctor arrives in Beacon Hills, it becomes clear that something more terrifying than they could have imagined has been unleashed; the Weeping Angels have come to Beacon Hills.
1. Terror in the Night

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Teen Wolf_ or _Doctor Who_.**

_**Angels in the Shadows**_

**Chapter 1 - Terror in the Night**

.

_Beacon Hills, California_

_September 2012_

Thomas Phelps, a retired schoolteacher, walked out of the grocery store, glancing around the dark parking lot. It was late at night, and the moon hung in the sky overhead, gleaming silver. Phelps checked his cell phone as he walked, whistling tunelessly to himself.

As Phelps walked, an odd sensation overtook him; the feeling that he was being watched. He turned around, scanning the parking lot, but he was alone. No one else was anywhere near him; his car was the only one in the lot.

A sound - a quiet clank, as if something had just bounced off a metal surface - caused Phelps to turn his head, looking towards the loading docks at the back of the store. "Hello?" he called. "Is someone there?"

There was no reply.

Suddenly, one of the electric lights in the parking lot went out with a dull _clunk _and a fading buzz of electricity. Phelps turned, glancing back curiously, but again, nothing was there. Phelps shrugged, and turned to head to his car, stopping sharply as he heard another clank from the loading docks.

_This is not a good idea_, he warned himself, as he turned and walked around the corner of the store to the loading docks, pulling his phone out of his pocket and using its screen as a flashlight to illuminate his surroundings. To his surprise, no one was there; the space was completely empty.

"Hello?" he called out again. There was no reply.

Shaking his head, Phelps turned to head back to his car, and then froze in his tracks. Standing about ten feet from him, as if it had appeared out of nowhere, was a statue, about six feet tall. It was the image of a human, but with large feathered wings sprouting from its back. An angel. Its hands were raised to cover its face, and it was bent over slightly.

Phelps looked around in astonishment, but there was no one else around. There was just him, his car about twenty yards away, and the angel statue in front of him. But he was absolutely positive that the statue hadn't been there a few seconds earlier. Which meant that somehow, someone had put it there while he was facing the other direction.

But that was impossible; something like this had to be far too heavy for anyone to lift and carry to this spot in that short of an amount of time. And, in any case, he would definitely have heard them. Which meant that there was no logical way for that statue to be here.

Phelps walked up to the statue and tapped it gingerly on the arm with one hand. Nothing happened. The arm was, indisputably, made out of stone. Which meant that if this was some kind of joke, it was an extremely elaborate one.

Hearing another noise behind him, Phelps turned. "Who's there?" he snapped. Only silence replied. "I'm getting really sick of this!" he yelled. "Whoever you are, this isn't funny!" He turned back towards the statue, and gasped, staggering backwards in shock.

The statue was gone. There was no trace whatsoever that it had ever been there.

Phelps turned again, and jumped back, letting out a scream of shock. The statue had somehow moved, and was now on the other side of him. This time, its hands were lowered, and the fingernails had become talons. Its mouth was open, and its teeth - which were jagged and razor-sharp - were bared, as if it was snarling at him, its face twisted in fury.

Phelps blinked, and the statue - the _thing_ - was gone again. He caught sight of a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, and whipped around, but nothing was there. Becoming increasingly frantic, he turned again and again, trying desperately to see whatever was stalking him, but he still couldn't see anything. "_What are you?!_" he screamed, gasping for air. "_What do you want from me?!_"

The blow was stunning, launching him through the air as if he'd been shot with a cannon. His entire left side exploded with pain, and he was fairly sure at least one rib was broken. Regardless, as soon as he hit the ground, he struggled to his feet, coughing in pain, and ran for his car. "_Leave__ me alone!_" he screamed again, running as fast as he could, limping; he'd injured his left knee when he'd hit the ground. As he ran, all of the lights in the parking lot began blowing out in bursts of sparks, plunging his surroundings into darkness except for one light, directly over his car.

He reached his car and bent to the lock, fumbling desperately with his keys, when a soft sound behind him made his head snap up, gazing helplessly into the window with an expression of absolute horror. Standing directly behind him, illuminated by the glow of the last streetlight, was the statue, its hand extended towards the back of his neck, just a foot away from him. Its face was contorted in a demonic snarl, its fangs bared, its wings spread behind it, as if it was a monster risen from the depths of Hell.

Phelps opened his mouth to scream...

...as the last remaining light flickered, with a burst of sparks, and went out.

He felt a momentary touch of cold stone on the back of his neck, just a finger touching him, gently.

And then Thomas Phelps was gone.

**AN: Hello, everyone, and welcome to my newest story, _Angels in the Shadows_! This story, as you've probably assumed by now, centers around the Weeping Angels coming to Beacon Hills, putting everyone in the town in danger. The _Teen Wolf_ gang must team up with the Doctor and Clara to stop the Angels from claiming more victims and destroying history, and, in the process, must save two of their own from certain death. Who are the two in danger? Rest assured, all will be revealed in time. :)**

**I greatly appreciate reviews, so if anyone has any comments or questions regarding this story, please review! (No hate, please).**

**See you all next time!**


	2. Making Plans

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Teen Wolf_ or _Doctor Who_.**

**Chapter 2 - Making Plans**

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_Beacon Hills, California_

_October 2012_

"Are you sure?"

Stiles Stilinski turned in response to the question, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Yeah, I'm sure. Another disappearance last night. No body, no evidence, nothing."

Scott McCall sank into his chair, a sober expression on his face. "That's the fourth one this month."

"Yeah, plus three others last month," Stiles added. "Face it, Scott; something really weird is going on."

Seated on the couch, Isaac Lahey spoke up, his voice somewhat nervous. "You guys don't think... you don't think it's _her_ again, do you?"

Scott turned to face Isaac. "No, I don't think so. It's not Jennifer; I saw Deucalion slash her throat, there's no way she could've survived that. And even if she did survive, this time the victims don't fit any particular category. I don't think these are sacrifices."

"Of course not," Stiles said. "The sacrifices were done using a very specific method, and with those murders, the bodies almost always turned up. This is completely different. First of all, there's no ritualistic pattern to this; the victims aren't connected in any way, and they don't fit specific categories. It seems like it's totally random. And second, there are no bodies. None of these people have turned up, alive or dead; they just vanish, and no one can find them."

Isaac nodded. "So what do we do?" He looked to Scott, his eyes intent. "I mean, since Derek and Cora left, we're down on numbers. If this is something supernatural, and it's killing people... what do we do about it?"

Scott sighed, looking around his living room. Stiles and Isaac were his two closest friends, but neither of them really understood what he was going through. As the new Alpha werewolf in Beacon Hills, supernatural problems were now his responsibility more than they were for anyone else, and the stress of that was starting to take a toll on him.

It had been over a month since the final confrontation with the Alpha pack and the Darach (aka Jennifer Blake), and Scott had been dealing with the aftermath of the final battle. At the end, Jennifer and Kali were dead, Deucalion had left Beacon Hills, and Derek and Cora Hale had soon left as well. Now the only werewolves in Beacon Hills were Scott, Isaac, and the Alpha twins, Ethan and Aiden. The twins were still weak after Jennifer had nearly killed them, but they hadn't joined Scott's pack. So for now, it was just Scott and Isaac in the new pack. Stiles, Allison and Lydia were pack as well, but they weren't werewolves, so they didn't count in the same sense that Isaac did.

Scott finally turned to Isaac, considering. "We investigate," he said finally. "We find out what's doing this, and we stop it."

"Yeah, all well and good, but we don't even know what we're looking for," Stiles pointed out.

"Well, what do we know?" Scott asked, looking at Stiles. "I mean, your dad always says that everything has a pattern, right? Is there any pattern whatsoever for this? Anything that they have in common?"

Stiles shook his head, sighing. "Trust me, Scott, my dad's working his ass off trying to figure out what's going on, but he can't find anything. These people had nothing in common; none of them knew each other. And there's no common factor; there were people from all age ranges, both genders pretty much evenly. None of the people who disappeared had any connection to any of the others."

"What about the circumstances of the actual disappearances?" Isaac asked. "When they happened, where, how? Does anything about that match?"

Stiles nodded. "Actually, yes, but it's not very helpful. There are exactly two things that all the disappearances have in common: location and time. They all took place in Beacon Hills - not on the outskirts, actually inside the town - and they all happened at night."

"Which only tells us that whatever this thing is doesn't hunt during the day, and is perfectly comfortable hunting in highly populated areas without being seen." Scott glanced back and forth between Stiles and Isaac. Becoming an Alpha seemed to have dramatically reduced the perpetual nervous energy that he'd often radiated before his ascension; he was much calmer, more centered, more controlled. "So we look for it at night."

"While it's hunting, you mean," Stiles said. "Why not during the day, when it _isn't__?_"

"Because we'd never be able to find it during the day," Scott said. "I've been to a couple of the crime scenes, remember. There's never any trace. No scent, nothing. Which means the only way we're going to be able to catch this thing is at night, when it's out and moving around."

"Why do I have a feeling that this is going to end badly?" Stiles groaned. He sighed melodramatically. "Fine, what the hell. Let's do it."

"Well, we're going to need help," Isaac pointed out. "If this thing is dangerous enough to have committed all these murders, it might be too strong for two werewolves to beat."

"That's why it's not just going to be two werewolves," Scott replied. He hesitated for a second, then took the plunge. "I'm going to ask the twins to help us."

"_What?!_"

"Are you serious?"

Stiles and Isaac spoke simultaneously, both gazing incredulously at Scott. He nodded, calmly. "Yeah, I'm serious. Think about it, guys. They live here now too. If something supernatural is going around killing people, they're going to want to get involved."

Isaac shook his head. "We can't trust them, Scott. They were working with Deucalion. I don't care whether or not they switched sides, I don't trust them."

"Okay, I'm with Isaac on this one," Stiles put in, his face anxious. "Scott, those two are dangerous. We definitely can't trust them; not yet, at least."

Scott looked up. "Look, guys, whether we like them or not, we need their help. Isaac and I may not be able to take on whatever's killing these people by ourselves. We're going to bring in Chris and Allison, obviously; Lydia too, she might be able to help us find the people who disappeared. But we don't know if it'll be enough, and I'd rather have two more Alpha werewolves on our side than have them _not_ helping us. Okay?"

Stiles and Isaac considered this for a few seconds. Then, reluctantly, they both nodded.

"Okay," Isaac confirmed. "But I still don't trust them."

"I'm not asking you to trust them," Scott replied. "I'm asking you to trust _me._"

Isaac locked eyes with Scott and nodded decisively.

"All right, then, it's settled," Scott said. "Stiles, you call Lydia; Isaac, you go see the Argents. I'll go find the twins. We'll meet up at the vet clinic tomorrow after school. Sound good?"

Isaac nodded; after a few seconds, so did Stiles.

Scott smiled. "All right. Let's get to it."

**AN: Sorry, this chapter is very uneventful, but it introduces the _Teen Wolf_ gang and sets up the events that will follow. The Doctor and Clara will be introduced soon, but probably not for another two chapters.**

**Next time, the pack comes together, and their search for answers begins... but the search won't end well for two of their number. Which two? For that answer, you'll have to wait until the next chapter.**

**Shoutouts to seetherrayne and BLACK MAS for reviewing!**

**As always, I greatly appreciate reviews, so please review if you have any comments or questions about this chapter or the story as a whole. Thanks! (No hate, please).**

**See you next time!**

**Review Q&A:**

**Q: This is a really good beginning. I'm excited to see where it goes!**

**A: Thanks! Trust me, this story will be a very exciting ride, with lots of twists and turns along the way. Hopefully you'll all enjoy it!**

**Q: Next chapter soon.**

**A: Here you go!**


	3. Two New Victims

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Teen Wolf**_** or **_**Doctor Who**_**.**

**Chapter 3 – Two New Victims**

_Beacon Hills, California_

_October 2012_

The next day, the entire pack had gathered at the vet clinic by nightfall. Scott was leaning against the wall, watching as Deaton finished putting away various medical instruments. Stiles had sunk into a chair, while Isaac and Allison were talking in quiet tones near the entrance. Chris leaned against the wall, keeping one eye on Isaac and the other on the twins, who were standing uneasily in one corner. Aiden was chatting with Lydia, but he still seemed nervous.

After another minute, Deaton - who seemed completely unaffected by the awkwardness that had developed in the room - put the last syringe back into a drawer and turned to face Scott, leaning back on the table. "All right, Scott. Let's begin."

"Why are we here?" Chris asked, deciding to open the conversation directly.

"We're here," Scott said, turning to face Chris, "because another person disappeared yesterday. That's the seventh disappearance in the past two months, and there haven't been any bodies found. We need to do something."

Chris nodded. "I'm open to suggestions. Have you been able to find anything?"

Scott shook his head. "No, nothing. And I mean _nothing_. I've been to all of the crime scenes, and there's never any evidence. No scent, no tracks, no bodies, not even blood. Nothing."

"So what's your plan?" Chris asked, his eyes narrowed in contemplation.

"We're going to find whatever's taking people," Scott said simply. "All of the disappearances occurred in the area of town near the grocery store, so we'll concentrate there. We should split up to cover more ground; we'll go in teams of two." He glanced across the room. "I'll go with Chris. Ethan and Aiden, you two go together; Lydia, you're with Allison. Which leaves Stiles and Isaac."

"Ah, quick question." Stiles stood, holding up a hand. "What do we do if we run into this thing... whatever it is?"

"Call me immediately, and we'll all get over to where you are," Scott replied promptly. "It's going to take all of us to deal with this thing. We all have to work together." He glanced over to Ethan and Aiden, his eyes narrowing in emphasis. "_All_ of us."

Aiden scowled, looking at the ground, but Ethan met Scott's gaze. "You can count on us."

"Good," Scott said, smiling at Ethan.

"All right," Chris said, rising to his feet. "Let's get moving."

.

The group immediately made their way out to the grocery store, where the latest victim – a man named Thomas Phelps – had disappeared. The parking lot was dark and quiet, with no cars present and no people in sight.

Scott glanced around, inhaling the cold night air. "Okay, guys, let's get to work. Call me if you see anything."

Stiles grinned. "You got it, buddy."

The group spread out, each pair walking along their own path, examining everything.

As he walked along the street, Stiles glanced nervously up at the sky, where the silver disc of the moon hung overhead.

Isaac noticed. "You okay?"

Stiles nodded slowly. "Yeah… yeah, I'm all right. I'm just nervous, you know? I mean, if that thing's out here…"

Isaac nodded understandingly. "Yeah, I know how you feel."

Suddenly, Isaac stiffened, lifting his head and looking quickly around, inhaling deeply as he sniffed the air.

Stiles watched, his eyes wide. "What? What's wrong?"

Isaac looked back over at him. "Something… I'm not sure what, but… it's like I can _feel_ something."

"Where?" Stiles asked.

Isaac turned in a circle, looking all around him, then pointed in one direction. "There."

Stiles turned, to see that Isaac was pointing to a large parking structure down the street. The building was brightly illuminated, but seemed deserted.

Swallowing his misgivings, Stiles nodded decisively. "All right, let's go. Lead the way."

As he followed Isaac towards the building, Stiles couldn't overcome the sensation that something wasn't right.

.

As Stiles and Isaac walked into the parking structure, their footsteps echoed off the smooth concrete floor.

"You go up, I'll go down," Isaac offered, gesturing towards the two ramps in front of them. The one on the left side led down to the basement level, while the one on the right led up.

"Sure, sounds good," Stiles replied.

"Keep your eyes open. I don't like the look of this place." With that, Isaac headed towards the ramp leading down, while Stiles walked up the other one.

The total absence of cars or people was giving the place a very eerie atmosphere to Stiles. As he walked, he couldn't help feeling a chill running down his back. Somehow, he _knew_ that something was there. He could feel the unmistakable sensation of being watched.

Rounding a corner, he lurched backwards with a loud gasp, coming to an abrupt halt.

Standing in the center of the ramp, about twenty feet in front of him, was a statue.

Stiles looked around for a moment, not sure if this was some kind of joke, and then refocused on the statue. It was still there, standing motionless in the middle of the ramp, utterly out of place. It was human in design, but with a pair of huge wings sprouting from its back; an angel.

"Weird…" Stiles muttered, walking up to the statue. He paced in a circle around it, looking for any answer as to how it could have gotten there in the first place, but there was no evidence. No ropes, cables, or wires; nothing. It was as if the statue had just _appeared_ here, materializing as if by magic.

But that wasn't possible… was it?

Stiles walked slowly back down the ramp and looked back around the corner, down towards the lower levels. He was on the third floor at the moment, while Isaac was probably in the basement by this point.

"Isaac?" he called down the ramp. There was no response.

Stiles turned back to look at the statue again…

Only to find that it had vanished.

He stared at the place where the statue had been for a long moment, his mind trying to comprehend what had happened. The statue had been right there, _right there_, only seconds before. How could it have vanished completely?

Stiles turned to go find Isaac – and instantly staggered backwards with a yell of shock and horror.

The statue had been standing right behind him. Its facial expression, somehow, had changed; while its face had been totally blank initially, devoid of emotion, now its lips were curled upwards in a cruel smile.

Stiles walked around the statue, careful to give it a wide berth, and then took off running down the ramp.

As he reached the second floor, he turned his head – to see that the statue was once again standing right behind him. This time, its face was contorted in a vicious snarl, its teeth now long, jagged fangs, and its fingernails had grown into long, deadly claws.

Stiles yelled in fear, jumping back. The statue remained motionless. He backed away as far as he could, still looking at it, and then turned and ran again as soon as he reached the corner leading down to the next ramp.

This time, he didn't bother to look back; he just ran, as fast as he could, dashing down the last three ramps to the ground floor while frantically yelling "Isaac!" over and over again and trying to fish his phone out of his pocket. As he ran, the lights set into the ceiling overhead started flickering, going off one by one, so that darkness was following him as he ran.

He realized it now; whatever that thing was, the thing that looked like a statue but could move – _that_ was the creature that was taking people. He didn't know how, or why, it was doing this, but he was certain that it was.

And, if he didn't get out of here fast, he would be the next victim.

Stiles burst around the corner, exiting the last ramp, and found himself back on the ground floor. Isaac was nowhere to be seen.

Stiles pulled out his cell phone and held it up, about to dial Scott's number, when he heard a soft sound behind him. Holding up the phone, he froze, paralyzed by a mixture of shock and mindless horror.

For an instant, Stiles could see it, reflected in the screen of his phone as he held it up in front of him. The statue, its face twisted in rage, was standing right behind him, one hand outstretched, a clawed finger gently touching the back of his neck.

Stiles's eyes bulged in terror, just as the overhead lights went dark, plunging him into darkness.

Something cold touched the back of his neck.

Stiles let out one terrified scream.

And then, with a flash of blue light, he was gone.

.

Isaac reacted instantly when he heard Stiles yelling. He whipped around, scanning the darkened basement of the parking structure, and started running towards the ramp leading upwards. "Stiles?" he called out, just as the lights went out.

Isaac's eyes immediately lit up, glowing yellow and allowing him to see in the darkness.

Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream rang out from the ramp ahead of him. It was abruptly cut off, and a momentary flash of blue light flared in the darkness and was gone.

Isaac stopped dead in his tracks. "Stiles?" he yelled. "Stiles!"

There was no response.

Isaac walked slowly up the darkened ramp, his superhuman senses letting him see everything around him. A human would have been rendered blind by the darkness, but Isaac, being a werewolf, could see just as easily as if the lights had still been on.

As he emerged onto the first floor, Isaac glanced around, looking for any sign of Stiles. Nothing.

Wait. No, not nothing. An object was lying on the ground, glowing blue. As he walked over and picked it up, he recognized it as a cell phone.

_Stiles's_ cell phone.

A chill ran through Isaac as he looked around. There was some sort of… _presence_ here, a sensation in the air.

Someone… or _something_… was in here with him.

"Stiles?" Isaac said softly.

A scraping sound behind him caused Isaac to whirl around, but again there was nothing.

Isaac dialed Scott's phone number on Stiles's phone. Holding it up to his ear, he waited until Scott answered a moment later.

"_Stiles? What's up?_"

"No, it's Isaac," Isaac answered. "I'm in the parking structure on Rowan Street."

"_Where's Stiles?_"

"I…" Isaac trailed off. "I don't know. I heard him yell, and then I found his phone. I can't find him anywhere. I think…"

Another scraping sound, off in the other direction. Isaac whirled around. "Scott, something's here. _It's_ here. Whatever's taking people, it's here. And I think…" He swallowed. "I think it took Stiles."

"_What?!_" Scott yelled. "_Isaac, listen to me, okay? Get out of there. Go now!_"

"Right," Isaac agreed, taking a step back. "I…"

At that exact moment, something touched his shoulder, like a hand grasping him.

Isaac whirled around, just in time to catch a brief glimpse of a tall figure looming over him. It was a statue, the statue of an angel, with one hand gripping his shoulder. Jagged teeth were bared, its mouth curved in a snarl.

Isaac opened his mouth to scream. Then there was a flash of blue light, and everything went black.

.

_Ten minutes later…_

Scott burst into the parking structure, looking around desperately. But there was no sign of anything wrong. The lights overhead were all running, brightly illuminating the building's interior. But there was no sign of Stiles and Isaac. They had vanished, seemingly without a trace.

Chris ran in behind him, breathing heavily. "Any sign of them?" he asked.

"No." Scott looked back at him. "Nothing."

He inhaled a deep breath of air, but there was no scent to follow. He could pick up the faint scents of Stiles and Isaac, but nothing else except for the odors of car exhaust, oil and rubber from all of the cars that had entered and left the structure the previous day.

His two closest friends were gone. Just _gone_, the same as all of the other disappearances.

"Any ideas?" Chris asked.

Scott shook his head numbly.

"I don't know."

.

_Elsewhere…_

The street was quiet and dark, a faint breeze rustling fallen leaves on the sidewalk. The moon hung in the sky overhead, and the distant sound of barking could be heard from a dog.

Suddenly, a loud wheezing, whirring sound rang out. The sound was utterly unearthly; no human would have been able to identify it. A strong wind kicked up, swirling the fallen leaves as a large, rectangular shape began to materialize in a bright flash of light, illuminating its surroundings.

With a final whirr and a resounding _thud_, the object became clear and solid, resting on the sidewalk. It was a large blue box, made of some type of wood. A lamp fitted on top of it was the source of the bright light. A glowing sign, emblazoned with the words "Police Public Call Box", ran around the sides at the top of the box.

There was a long moment of silence, and then the door opened with a creak. A young man, wearing a dark gray coat, black pants, brown leather shoes, a blue vest and shirt and a blue bowtie, stepped out of the box, running a hand over his tousled dark hair as he glanced around the darkened street.

"Well," he said, a grin crossing his face. "This is new."

.

**AN: And here we are again! Sorry it's taken me so long to update, I've been very busy lately. Happy New Year to everyone! I hope you all had a great holiday season!**

**Well, things have certainly sped up a bit. Stiles and Isaac have been taken by the Weeping Angels, which means they're now stranded somewhere else in time… and, to kick things up a notch, the Doctor has finally arrived in Beacon Hills! Turns out I was able to introduce him earlier than I'd planned, so; awesome! ;)**

**Shoutout to Pretend-itmakessense for reviewing, I appreciate the feedback!**

**As always, I tremendously appreciate feedback on my stories, so if anyone has any questions regarding this chapter or the story as a whole, please review! (No hate, please).**

**Next chapter, we find out what's happened to Stiles and Isaac, and the rest of the pack is introduced to the Doctor… although it may not be the friendliest meeting at first. Make of that statement what you will. (evil laugh)**

**See you next time!**

**Review Q&A:**

**Q: I'm excited to see how this plays out!**

**A: Thanks, it'll definitely have a lot of twists and turns. For instance, there's the issue of when exactly Stiles and Isaac have been sent to… and of who else has been sent back by the Angels. I quote River Song; "Spoilers!" ;)**


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